After One Tale Ends
by Filiafamilias
Summary: It is Bilba who wakes up injured after the Battle. Injured and thinking she has spoiled any chance at happiness with one King under the Mountain. Of course, Thorin doesn't hesitate to clear up the matter. Fem!Bilbo! Final part up
1. Part I

**After one Tale ends**

Or; an unexpected but much desired Continuation of an unexpected and at first not so much desired Adventure

**Part I**

"Am I dead?" She blinked up at the wizard filling her field of vision.

"No, my dear."

"Good. Good! I would hate being dead and having to wait for the remaking of the world while feeling this awful. I feel like..." She tried to find an appropriate word for the awful lot of pain she was in, but failed miserably. "Like I've been...-"

"Stabbed? Bludgeoned? Pierced by an arrow?" The sudden familiar voice made her heart stop for a moment before it launched into an excited beat.

Tears clouded her eyes but she blinked them away. "Thorin?" She squeaked.

The next moment it was his beloved face hovering above hers as he elbowed an bemused Gandalf out of the way.

"Yes." He answered simply.

"You're here." She was confused. Why was he here? "Are you all right? The others, are they... are they...?"

"I am fine. Some scratches and bruises and cuts. As have most of the others. Nori sports a broken arm, Dori and Dwalin some stabbing wounds and Glóin is worst off with two arrows in his shoulder and leg. No one is in any danger whatsoever. The same, however, cannot be said of you." He sounded awfully angry at that.

She got why, of course. He wanted her out of here, as soon as possible. And why wouldn't he?!"

"I'm sorry. I am very happy to hear everyone's going to be all right. And soon as I am fit enough, I'll leave, Thorin, I will. I am truly sorry, for everything. It won't take long, I swear, until I can get out of your sight." The rush of words left her drained. She so badly wanted to sleep, all of a sudden.

She closed her eyes, only for a brief moment, to gather more courage, more energy because Throin deserved more from her.

"Leave?!" She heard Thorin growl above her. "Why would you- No, wake up. Bilba!"

She was awake! She blinked her eyes open for a moment, to see Thorin's face wrought with anxiety.

"I am awake." She said plainly. "I just want you to know, Thorin-" She spoke slowly as it took so much out of her just to get these words spoken, but she must! -"that I didn't want to betray you. However, I didn't see any other way. I was so scared you would all die, and over some gold, at that! So I took the only thing I knew would make you listen to reason. I didn't want you all to die just when you got your Mountain back! All those Men and Elves seemed so eager to just be done with you!"

"Bilba..." He sounded so far away.

And she was quite tired.

She let her eyes flutter closed again, for just a moment. However, there was more to say to him.

So she opened her eyes again, only he wasn't there. "Thorin? I wasn't done yet."

"I am here." Suddenly he was on the other side of her cot. Had he changed his clothes?

"I am sorry. Thorin. Very sorry. I didn't see any other way, though."

He was looming over her. Something dark and dangerous brooded in his eyes as he surveyed her. She wanted to cower away from him, yet there was nowhere to go in her bed, now was there. What was more: she was no coward.

"I know you didn't see any other way. I am sorry, too, for making you feel like you had no other option." He sounded oddly pained.

"Not your fault," she managed to bring out.

He shook his head gravely. "It was; I was warned and still I fell to the thrall of gold. However, I can promise you that will _never_ happen again."

"That's good. I- _we_ need you as the strong and brave King you really are." Her eyes were so heavy, but she would say all she wanted to say. She closed her eyes for just a breath and forced them open again.

She frowned. Where had that Dwarf gone now?! "I wasn't finished yet!"

She heard his low chuckle, and the sound of his true merriment was such a heartfelt relief, so very welcome after the whole business with the gold-sickness, that she felt her heart jump. Her silly, silly heart.

"I have to say all this, before I lose my nerve. I know that you are angry at me, and rightly so. I betrayed you and the Company. I couldn't bear to see you get hurt, not again, not while I could help it."

"I know, little hobbit."

She snorted. "Isn't that a pleonasm? Redundancy, clearly! Really, Thorin." She frowned, having lost her focus for a moment. She shook her head and forced herself to concentrate. "However, I know you can't trust me now, not anymore, and _I am so sorry for that_. But I think it's better because..." Bone deep tiredness threatened to swallow her up once more but she fought it. "Because I would do it again. I _will_ do it again, if that helps you in some way, especially if it stops you from getting hurt. What good is gold when you're dead, Thorin? What good is gold to me, anyway? I don't need much, not even a little, I think. I don't need _anything_ as long as I know you're safe and sound. Goodgracious, I would give away your whole Mountain of rocks, and Bag End too, just as easy as this-" She tried to raise her hand and snap her fingers, but the attempt fell embarrassingly flat- "as long as I know you will be all right. Just so you know."

There were a few murmurs and whispers together with a clank and movements around her. She tried lifting her head to see what was going on around her, but her neck refused to cooperate. Then Thorin was there again, filling her vision as he pressed his big, heavy hand on her brow, forcing her to lie still.

"Be still, little burglar."

"I say what I want to say, whether you listen to me or not!"

A surprised chuckle escaped him. "That is not what I meant, you silly goose. Lie still, don't stress your wounds. Sleep, and get well. _Then_ we can talk about betrayals, guilt and gold. About Mountains and Bags and Hearts too big and brave for the body they house in. We will talk then about who deserves what."

Her eyes filled and she couldn't help it. "I am sorry to still bother you. You sent me away, and I will go, I promise. Have Gandalf take me out of your sight. I am so sorry. I know I deserved it."

"Didn't you hear anything I just said? Did you also damage your ears?!" He looked sideways to someone else, who started talking but it sounded like bees buzzing. Or birds twittering; she wasn't sure.

She started crying in earnest, much to her shame. "I am so sorry, Thorin, so sorry." She was; however, she also felt so very guilty: "I would do it again, though, in a heartbeat. Because you're safe now. At least _that_."

His hand was so very heavy as he pressed her head deeper into her pillow while he leaned over her, his nose almost touching hers. Was he still angry? Angry wasn't the word for it; he had been _furious_ and so very, very frightening in his fury.

"Now you listen to me, burglar,... _Bilba_. I hear you, but listen to me when I say that I will do everything that is within my power to make sure you will _never_ have the need again to save me from myself. I hope I will never put you in that position again."

"What position?" She asked, confused. "I have to leave here, remember? You said that I-"

He huffed in exasperation. "_I know what I said_." He said that with such a terrifying snarl that she was properly put in her place. She needed to go, needed to leave as he had commanded. Yet she was so very tired. Maybe just a little nap and then she would find Gandalf and have him help her leave. It was the least she could do for Thorin. He was her King -she had chosen him as a King, that was far more meaningful than being born under a King, wasn't it, and she had made such a mess out of her loyalty. She had so utterly betrayed him... Her mind was going round and round in circles: she took the Arkenstone and betrayed him, and inevitably she _hurt_ him, but given the choice, she would do it again and again and again. So he would get hurt again and again and again. And he would hate her again and again and again.

She needed to leave. She needed to at least obey that command, since she couldn't do much else.

Where was that wizard when you needed him, anyway? Always disappearing at the worst times!

More furious whispers and Thorin sighed. "Yes, _yes_. I _know_." She had the feeling he wasn't talking to her. "Bilba... _Bilba_, stay awake for one moment longer. You don't have to-" He shook his head and said to the side: "She is too riddled with fever. She's not listening to a word of what I am trying to tell her."

He was now cradling her head in both his enormous hands. Really, these dwarves might not be as _tall_ as Men or Elves, but they were still so much bigger than she was! Stronger and wider and braver than any Men or Elf! It felt like his hands swallowed up her face. She pursed her lips, which was just possible betwixt the palms of both hands cradling her cheeks.

"You're hands are just too big, Thorin." She complained, rather put off. Talking was so funny as his hands pressed on the skin and muscles of her face and throat.

At that, he smiled down at her. "I can't help them. Now sleep, little Bilba, and don't worry about leaving. I rescind any and all of my words that I spoke while stricken mad with the gold-sickness."

"Oh. Still, there is... I can't undo what I did."

"Nor can I. However, I hope you will be able to look past that. I know I do. Because if anyone wish to undo what he did..." He didn't finish. He took a deep breath.

"Sleep now, dearest Bilba. Sleep and don't worry for a thing. Give that mind a rest, for once!"

Oh yes, that's true: always he said she was thinking too much. She couldn't help that, now could she? It was not as if she could just _stop_ thinking! Besides, he was such an ungrateful lout; it had been her thinking that got them out of so many tight scrapes!

Now, she was going to tell him what's what... after she closed her eyes for just one moment.

People were not where they supposed to be when she blinked her eyes open again. She huffed in exasperation as Gandalf seemed to pop out of nowhere.

"Where were you when I needed you just a moment ago?" She demanded irritably.

"And what did you need me for, dear Bilba?"

"I..." She trailed off, confused. She shook her head. "That's not important right now! The important thing is that you were not where you were."

"I was not where I was?"

Bilba blinked. Then she frowned. "Don't try to avoid the issue here!"

A smile crinkled his long beard. "I think it's better you get some more sleep."

"Nonsense. Besides, I was having a conversation with Thorin here, he-" It took far too much effort to turn her head to the side. When she finally managed she couldn't help the unbidden tears that sprung into her eyes when Thorin was not where he had just been a moment ago.

"_He's gone_." She whispered, her heart plummeting through her chest. "He hates me, doesn't he? He should, though, he should."

Gandalf galvanized into action. "Oh no, my dear hobbit, oh no. Now there, stop your crying. Don't you remember what he said? No listen here, your tears are quite unnecessary!"

It must be her tiredness that was playing tricks on her, because the wizard couldn't possibly be _uncomfortable_ with her tears, could he?!

A sliver of sunlight peeked from what was apparently a fabric partition -was she in a tent?- being held to the side. And in strode Thorin, King under the Mountain.

"What are you doing out there when you were just _here_?!" She blurted out, confused.

Thorin stopped suddenly, staring at her. In the golden light of candles and flames, his face seemed to lose a truly dark and solemn look to be replaced by a fierce light. His eyes flickered like many-faceted gems.

"_Bilba_." There was so much emotion in her single name that she was struck silent.

"You're awake. Finally."

"Her fever is gone. Though, she is feeling a bit muddled still." The wizard supplied. She could hear the smile in his voice and imagined his eyes twinkling.

"Thank Mahal." Thorin breathed as he hastily moved to her other side.

"Now she just needs sleep, and plenty of it." The wizard petted her head fondly.

"At least we can now move her safely."

"Indeed; this tent is no place for the weak and wounded now winter is settling in."

Bilba had been content to keep silent and let her eyes feast on her King, however as the two started talking about her as if she wasn't there and able to hear them just fine, thank you very much, she decided that enough was enough.

"Excuse me." She tried for a polite tone but was quite sure it sounded quite a bit too harsh for that. "I am sure you wouldn't make any decisions about me without consulting, well, _me_."

Thorin had the gall to smile. "Now that you are awake, we will strive to do that as much as possible."

Somehow that answer didn't satisfy her much. In several ways!. "As much as possible? Now that I am awake?! You mean to say that you just made decisions about my person without consulting me simply because I was asleep?! The nerve!"

She pursed her lips as another question rose up in her. "Huh... How long have I been asleep anyway?" It hadn't been more than a few short naps, right?

Thorin's face darkened again at that. "You weren't just _asleep_, Bilba. At times we feared you would _die_."

Oh.

"We feared for your life. _I_ feared for your life. You stupid, brave little hobbit. How could you possibly think that _sacrificing your life for mine, for ours, was a good idea_?!" The last part he bellowed in her face.

He had quite the voice. Memories of the terrifying battle started to seep in. She had sneaked into the heaviest fighting and saw Azog and his warg bearing down on Thorin and Fíli and Kíli, who were already straining under the amount of orcs, goblins and wargs intent on their death.

She hadn't hesitated one moment. Fear for them had clogged her throat, making her forget how scared she was.

She had run right into the thick fray. Just when the white warg bore down on them, she popped that ring off her finger, startling the white warg something fierce. She guessed no matter what her diminutive size was, something appearing out of thin air would startle anyone, even big bad wargs.

She had Sting buried in the throat of the beast before she had even registered her own action.

Its rider was flung off in the warg's death throws. When the Pale Orc found his footing again, he had forgotten all about Thorin and those surrounding him.

His eyes were only on her.

What happened next was hazy and unclear. She might have made a stand, but she could remember being flung in the air, her chest hurting something fierce, even beneath the mithril armor.

The Orc's face loomed over her, bearing such a malicious and horrifying smile that she knew right then that she was going to die.

Something had barreled into the Orc right then, with such force that the Orc toppled over, out of her line of sight.

A terrified face filled her vision and then another one. Such frightened looks didn't fit on the young faces of the Princes.

Things got more and more befuddled until she could clearly remember her conversation with Gandalf and Thorin after the battle, as she had been in the same bed, in the same tent as she was now, or so she presumed.

"If I say I am sorry and that I will never do such a thing again, I would be lying." She peered up in the exasperated face of her King. She tried to shrug. "Are we going to have an argument about this too?"

A muffled snort came from the wizard, which made Thorin frown fiercely at the wizard. The wizard's amusement was not helping things at all, Bilba decided; it only served to aggravate Thorin further.

However, if the King under the Mountain focused his ire on Gandalf instead of her, that would not be such a bad thing.

However, it seemed that Thorin didn't let himself be distracted so easily. He turned back to her again, and sighed deeply.

Slowly, ever so gently, he wiped his calloused thumb back and forth over her brown, playing with her curls.

"I think we will have arguments until we both are old and grey, dearest Bilba."

"Old and grey?" Bilba echoed, confused.

Thorin smirked at her, the gesture filled with confidence and assurance. "Of course. If you think I will let you leave my sight ever again, you are sorely mistaken." His confident demeanor slipped a bit then, however. "Though I understand if you do not want to stay with me, after what I've done to _you_."

Bilba gaped at him. "You want me to stay with you, after what _I_ did?"

"What _you_ did, I should have done. What _I_ did, was the most abhorrent thing I could have done. The only excuse, and it is no excuse at all, is that I was not my right self. I can only promise that I will not lose my mind to the gold sickness ever again. I have a far more precious treasure to look after. My biggest regret is that it took your sacrifice and near death to realize so." The look he gave her was so poignant she was struck silent. And blushed fiercely. Was he saying what she thought he was saying?!

He became more and more anxious as her silence stretched on. Then he opened his mouth in his typical brusque manner and demanded she started talking, _right now_.

Instead of answering, she burst into tears.

Happy tears they were, but apparently no one could tell as Thorin gathered her up in his arms -which she had no problem with at all- to comfort her, promising all sorts of things. More dwarrows invaded the tent, all talking and exclaiming and pointing fingers. In his chair, only Gandalf seemed to recognize the reason for her tears and started laughing.

To be heard above the ruckus, she put her mouth right next to Thorin's ear. "Even if you send me away again, I will always come back to you... Though next time, I will throw that stupid stone at your head, make no mistake."

Thorin's shoulders started to shake. No tears though, but silent laughter made his body rumble. He pressed a kiss to her brow before carefully settling her back in her bedding again.

Suddenly exhausted, Bilba knew they still had to sit down and talk about her theft of the Arkenstone and his banishing her somewhere in their future. For now, however, it was more than enough to know he wanted her to _stay_. And she wouldn't want to be anyplace else. Not even, she admitted to herself, at Bag End if it didn't have one Thorin Oakenshield, King under the Mountain, under its roof.


	2. Part II

**Part II**

"She's fit enough for transport." Óin said with an air of satisfaction. "We have to bundle her up though, I don't want her to get pneumonia on top of everything else."

"Yes, _she_ wouldn't like that either." Bilba grumbled softly.

She was already feeling far better, though moving still hurt something fierce. She was still sleeping most of the time, but she wasn't losing her awareness of time passing anymore as she had during the first few weeks of her recuperation.

With bleary eyes she watched Óin and Dori and Thorin bicker around her sickbed about the best way to move her.

Apparently they wanted to bring her inside Erebor -and that fact made her far happier than it would have ordinarily done so; Thorin really wanted her with him. He really had revoked her banishment!

However, no one had seen fit to tell _her_ they were going to move her into the Mountain. And that fact made her... contrary, just for the sake of it.

"A litter would be far better than a wagon. The bearers can navigate any bumps and holes where a wagon would not." Dori argued. Thorin nodded as did Óin.

"Fur-wrapped." Óin suggested.

"What," Bilba murmured, "the litter or me?"

"yes." Dori nodded and started gathering furs and pelts strewn around the tent and across the few pieces of furniture.

"Furs make my nose itch." Bilba informed the dwarrows.

"I will make her a tea to sedate her, just a bit." Óin assured Thorin who looked thunderous. "So she will be comfortable during the trip."

"I can handle pain just fine for a while. I'm not made of porcelain." Bilba reminded them.

"You think that is necessary?" asked Dori. Bilba perked up; finally someone was listening to her! "Well, if it is, I would just put her to sleep. Might be the best for her. That way she will experience no pain or stress at all." Dori continued assertively.

"I can decide what's best for me, thank you very much!" Her voice was raising in volume.

"That might be the best idea indeed." Óin agreed.

Bilba watched the healer with narrowed eyes. "I might have some 'best' ideas for you too. Maybe it's _you _who needs some sleep!"

"All right. Let me find a litter." Dori ducked out of the tent, while Thorin and Óin continued to confer about the best way to transfer her, her treatment once inside the mountain, her wounds, her food, her sleeping patterns, her hair, her state of mind, her clothes, her- Bilba couldn't stand it any longer.

When Óin brought her the tea, she folded her painful arms and turned up her nose at the two dwarves. They both looked rather confused at her dismissive attitude.

"Bilba?" Thorin asked, brow lowered in a fierce glare that would have intimidated her a year ago.

"Drink your tea, that's a good girl." Óin said, either entirely unimpressed with her attitude or so used to it from countless years of treating contrary patients that he didn't even bother paying it any attention.

"No!" She loudly exclaimed.

Óin cocked his head at her, while Thorin echoed his hobbit and folded his arms in front of his chest.

"Bilba. You will drink your tea." Thorin said in deceptively low voice.

"No." She was adamant.

"It's best for you." Óin patiently held out the cup to her.

"No, _you_ decided it was best for me. You didn't even ask me, you didn't even bother to listen to me!" Yes, there was a honest -to-goodness pout on her face but Bilba couldn't help it.

Óin sighed and looked deploringly at Thorin, which caused Bilba to grind her teeth. "It's _me_ you have to convince of drinking the tea, not Thorin!" She bit out.

"We want what is best for you, Bilba." Thorin said softly yet sternly.

"Yes, I know that, I _appreciate _that; however, I am not a child. I am awake and able to think for myself now. I would like a say in things _regarding myself_! I want to be asked, not told!"

For a moment the two clashed silently, each staring the other down.

However, when one side of his mouth curled up, Bilba smelled victory.

"All right. Bilba, would you please drink your tea so we can get you inside, where it is safe and warm, with the least possible amount of discomfort for you?!" He could ask pretty nicely when he felt like it, Bilba thought not so kindly.

She smiled fondly at him. "No." She answered sweetly.

He opened his mouth, then frowned. A storm was brewing behind his eyes. "No?!" He growled.

"No. I am willing to take something that will dull the pain even more-" She didn't know what exactly Óin was using as pain medication already, but it was good stuff! -"But I want to be awake! I want to see the outside. Especially if we're going into the Mountain. Did you think I didn't notice the lack of windows in that heap of stone?"

"Heap of stone?!" Óin sounded quite insulted, however Thorin looked almost... insecure?

"True. That's true. Windows are not something we Dwarrows need that many off. I didn't stop to think... You need the sun, the air, the earth, don't you?" Thorin rubbed a hand over his face. His sudden insecurity about her and her wishes and needs touched Bilba deeply.

He really did want the best for her.

She carefully reached out with her uninjured arm to caress his bearded cheek. "Hey." She smiled softly at him. "We do burrow into the Earth too, you know. I will do quite nicely in the Mountain. I will be with _you_, won't I? That's all I need."

However, when his face stayed clouded, she tutted at him. "None of that! Now, I will take a different, a not-putting-me-to-sleep kind of tea, and we will go into the Mountain. Oh, I do hope you managed to air the place out."

Óin looked quite pained at that, and Thorin shook his head at her, his face quite red. "Trust me, _no one_ wanted to keep breathing dragon-fumes. _Of course we aired the place_!"

"You don't have to shout at _me_. I'm not the one who's going deaf here!"

Óin stayed affronted the rest of the day.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The Royal Quarters -yes, with capitals, thank you very much- were indeed very regal. Majestic. Opulent. Luxurious.

Though she was told that even the ordinary dwarven homes were quite something to see too. "We don't live in squalor like most Men do." Balin, despite all his diplomatic qualities, managed to sound quite condescending. "Every Dwarf has a craft and can make a good living out of it!"

Smiths, stonemasons, architects, miners, scribes, jewelers, tinkerers, engineers, weavers and so on; they all seemed to be valued equally. "We need all the crafts; where would we be without the architects? Homeless! Where would we be without miners? Poor! And I can go on and on and on!"

Surprisingly, Bilba urged him to go on and on and on. She liked hearing about their industries, and couldn't wait to go and see them all in action. She liked being industrious herself, and she was sure there were a lot of things she could apply herself to.

For now she was being confined to bed. Though the wounds were healing, they were still tender enough that she had to keep her rest. Moving was painful, the movements pulling on her injuries.

Every day she felt a tiniest bit better, but progress was so, so slow! It was driving her out of her mind. Thorin was sympathetic to her complaints to a certain degree: "I am deeply grateful you are still alive. You should be grateful you survived, little hobbit. Though no one likes to be cooped up like this, you just have to bear it. _Please_. Rest and get well." When he looked her with those smoldering eyes of his, she felt a new and exciting sort of tension within herself, which made her even more eager to get well for some strange, unidentifiable reason.

The Company was trying its best to keep her company. She was very grateful for their continued friendship. She loved how they entertained her, made her laugh and forget her increasing restlessness. They also listened to her complain about this and that, before telling her, each in his own way of course, that she just had to suck it up. That made them even dearer to her as they didn't fear to tell her what's what. I

If Thorin wasn't able to due to his many duties, one of the Company would carry her ever so gently to the Royal Balcony. The Balcony was a part of the Royal Quarters but the most outlying and one of the most heavily fortified parts of the Quarters because, obviously, it was an entree and exit point in Erebor. However, as it was located on a sheer cliff side hundreds and hundreds of feet above ground level, she couldn't see anyone ever entering from the ground. Nor was the door big enough to fit a Dragon, not even a little one.

It was her only daily excursion out of her bed and it was only that Óin and Thorin saw the beneficial effects of her short stays in the cold winter air that the two worrywarts even allowed it.

There were also other very depressing, truly _embarrassing_ consequences of being confined to a bed. Bodily functions, and all that. She needed help with almost everything! So awkward! The day she was first left alone on the chamber pot (and now in the Mountain the wardrobe, a beautiful example of advanced Dwarven _plumbing_, as they called it) was the happiest day in her recuperation so far.

However, there were still the sponge baths.

She desperately longed for a real bath. There was just the most luxurious bathroom (well, bath chamber more like it) which was part of the King's Quarter. But until the scabs were gone and her wounds fully closed she was not allowed into water.

So sponge baths. Now that she was awake, she was also perfectly aware of the indignity of a sponge bath. A wash was such a private matter! She could somewhat handle Óin giving them to her; he was a healer, had seen more than his fair share of all kinds of nude bodies, she tried to reassure herself. He made her feel at least a little bit at ease, despite or maybe thanks to his brusque manner.

Her move into the Royal Quarters, two days after she awoke and was declared fever-free, had some consequences.

The first evening Thorin had strolled into their room and had nonchalantly placed a washing basin on the side table, before retrieving soap, some washing and drying cloths. This was nothing unusual. When he had the time, the King was forever in her tent, bustling around the small space, helping wherever he could.

She waited for Óin to appear.

He never showed.

Instead, Thorin loomed over her, and started to carefully unbutton her shift.

Which earned him some weak slaps aimed at his hands.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Bilba gasped, outraged but also very flustered. _The nerve_!

"What I am doing?!" he snarled right back at her. "You're not blind or stupid, so what does it look like?!"

She gaped at the exasperated dwarf. "Excuse me? It better not be what it looks like!"

"It is exactly what it looks like!"

"No!" Bilba found herself speechless. She also turned bright red.

"Now, do cooperate."

"No! Are you truly serious? Are you really planning on undressing me and giving me a bath?!"

He had the gall to roll his eyes at her. "Yes!"

"No!" She sounded so affronted.

"You're remarkably fond of that word, aren't you?" Now he had the nerve to tease her.

"You can't!" Bilba had clasped both hands around her red cheeks. She also tried to stare him down, but he was entirely immune to her displeasure.

He reached for the buttons again. "Why can't I give my Love the care she needs?"

She froze, which gave Thorin the opportunity to unbutton the first few buttons. His blue eyes swept such a loving, tender look over her face that she experienced it like a actual, warm caress. He dropped an unexpected kiss on the tip of her nose. "Because you _are_ my love, and I need, too. I need to take care of you. I need to ascertain to myself that you are healing. It is also my right to take care of you. Why would I let Óin or another healer wash or feed you when I can do these things myself?"

Her slapping his hands away again was an entirely subconscious act, because she was still completely captivated by his rather nonchalant declarations. _My Love_... Oh, how she loved him too!

"Now, do you think I've never given you a bath before?" His eyes were laughing at her ."When you were unconscious, I did do my fair share."

Finally, she found her voice. Because even if they did love each other, that didn't immediately translated into allowing him to take liberties with her! Not while she was conscious! She needed some time to get used to things. Everything was just as she wanted, had dreamed about. However, she needed a short while to acclimatize to the fact that things had suddenly changed into this wonderful, new adventure Thorin and she were on... Even if she would have nothing else but this! Her entire being was convinced that Thorin was where- no _who_ she was meant to be with. She needed just a little time so her head could stop spinning!

And a little time to get over the fact that he had already seen her naked. Where she hadn't. Seen him naked, she meant. The unbidden thoughts came out of nowhere and she was sure to blushed up to the tips of her ears!

He reached again for the buttons. She pulled his beard.

"Bilba!" The growly, impatient King was back, and secretly she admitted she loved him very much too when he was his majestic and menacing self. "Don't be absurd!"

"What?! I can be absurd, if I want to. Which I am _not_. I would love to say that this is not proper. That this is indecent, even. I won't, though. But!" She held up her index finger in front of his increasingly reddening face. Such a glorious, hot temper he had! "You need to give me some space here. In the Shire we are not as... straightforward. I like your honesty and your, erm, determination, but I need just a little time to get used to it. To this. To things." Could she please stop blushing?!

His temper vanished, replaced by a heavy and hot, half-lidded gaze.

She started fanning herself.

"So... you need some time to get used to 'this'? To 'things'? To _us_?" he stroked his beard while his eyes raked over her disheveled form. His voice dropped to a satiny rumble. "I understand. Yes, maybe you _do_ need to get used to some things. Now, I will call Óin, if you don't have any troubles with _him_?!" All right, he not only sounded but looked quite jealous and disgruntled at the idea.

Bilba could only nod. Thorin left the room -chamber!- and returned a short while later with the healer in tow. Who was biting back his laughter when the King stomped off towards one of the doors connecting to this room/chamber. These dwarves liked their space!

"Now, let's get you freshened up!" His businesslike manner was just what Bilba needed.

After a short time, she was as clean as she could feel without taking an actual bath. Óin had estimated that soon, the last scabs would fall off. "So _don't_ pick at them, you hear!" Which was his last stern admonishment before stalking off towards the door Thorin had vanished through.

He didn't make a reappearance. Thorin, however, came back. He was freshly washed himself, clad only in trousers and a linen shirt.

He came to stand next to the bed, hands in his sides. "Happy now?" He snapped, but without any real venom. She nodded happily.

"Now, can I sleep next to you or will that take some time getting used to too?!"

She looked at the bed. It could easily fit six or seven hobbits next to each other. What was it with dwarves and making everything so big? She giggled. Where they trying to compensate for something? At least there was no danger of him unintentionally rolling over her, or otherwise endangering her recuperation. There was about half a room between them! She chortled.

He raised an eyebrow at her sudden hilarity.

She blinked at him and remembered his question. "No." She answered quickly, and realized it was the truth. She certainly didn't mind him sharing the bed with her. It hadn't been long into their journey when she had discovered the comforts of sharing body heat. Dwarves liked to pile up. She hadn't cared then and didn't care now if it was proper or not according to Shire customs; she was not in the Shire anymore, now was she?

And while the situation between Thorin and her had changed from platonic to something so much more, she welcomed the idea of sharing a bed with him.

Because after all, what could they do? Not much.

Maybe some kissing? Hopefully, yes! That would go a long way to getting her used to things. She smiled like the cat who got the cream.

When he suddenly shucked his shirt, her smile turned into a squeak. Bare-chested Thorin was an intimidating Thorin.

She quickly concentrated at a point on the ceiling until the rustling stopped and she could safely assume Thorin had made himself comfortable under the sheets.

"I'm fully covered, if that was what you are worried about, my proper little miss."

Her cheeks were flaming. "Erm, yes, I mean, no, I wasn't thinking about your chest at all!" Wait a minute...

She groaned when she heard his self-satisfied chuckles.

"Now, try to get some sleep."

"That won't be difficult." She said somewhat sullenly, as she could still drop off at the wink of a hat. She pouted, though. No goodnight kiss?

She didn't realize she had said that out loud until Thorin rolled ( and rolled and rolled and rolled- all right, she was exaggerating a tiny bit, the bed wasn't that enormous. The idea was a funny one, though.) over and said: "You only have to ask, little hobbit."

Before she had the chance to get embarrassed and lie she didn't want a kiss at all- good heavens, when did she get this bold?- firm, warm lips settled over hers and she was kissed into oblivion.

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The fourth day of her stay in the King's Bedchamber in the Royal Quarters in the Lonely Mountain also known as Erebor, she made a discovery...

On the morning of the second day, after a good night of sleep, she blinked her eyes, mouth agape and a fierce blush on her freckled cheeks as Thorin, dressed in only a sleeveless shirt and short breeches, sat in a chair next to her bedside. He was brushing his long hair, releasing a pleasant scent of pinewoods. Dwarves, when they had access to hygienic facilities, were very clean creatures. Bless their good souls.

Long and slow strokes had her attention unerringly fixed on Thorin, his hair, his arms, his carefully neutral expression, the low collar of his shirt...

All the while he talked to her about this and that in a soft, crooning voice. She had actually no idea what he was saying. The warm lilt of his voice had her attention completely monopolized and her mind was distracted by the lovely vision.

She watched transfixed as the muscles of his arm holding the brush formed a fascinating play under his skin.

Later that day, he and Dwalin got themselves involved in a friendly -or so Balin and Ori assured her- wrestling match. She watched breathlessly as the King threw his friend around (and was thrown too, but she was of the opinion that happened far less often than the other way around, of course). His strength, dexterity and intensity made her feel strangely warm inside. They had removed their upper clothing so they would have to work harder on getting a good grip on their opponent. Thorin sure had more body hair than a hobbit could ever hope for.

In the evening, he walked out of the bathing chamber still half wet, linen shirt and trousers sticking to his body. She swallowed.

He took his shirt off again before crawling into bed.

On the morning of the third day, she felt better than ever and was cheerily chatting with Óin to distract herself from the indignity of the sponge bath. Thorin was keeping a proper distance, not once looking at her, and she somehow felt a bit... irritated? If it was true what he said, that he had given her sponge baths before, didn't he want to do so again? Wouldn't he _want_ to do so again?!

She watched him dunk his head into a large silver washing basin, throwing his hair back while droplets of water raced down his strong nose and cheeks, down his beard and over his throat to disappear into the hair on his chest.

She abruptly looked away, feeling a familiar heat burning her cheeks.

For the afternoon meal he had invited some dwarves into their chamber to share it with their King and his hobbit. While some were of the Company, others she hadn't met yet. She was (re)introduced to Dáin and a few of his most esteemed advisors/shield brothers/drinking buddies/henchmen. Thorin looked very regal and majestic with his greater height, broader shoulders, prouder bearing and warmer laugh among the rather dour looking dwarves. Dáin was apparently quite a strong and good dwarf, but he seemed so plain compared to Thorin. No comparison there!

After lunch and the departure of most of their guests, he leaned over to give her a short, sweet and most of all innocent kiss which left her oddly dissatisfied.

In the afternoon he returned to their rooms in a mood, tossing clothing away and kicking off his heavy boots. Balin stood by smiling, Dwalin snorted and Dori shook his head while all four loudly argued about something or another. Thorin stretched languidly, slowly and thoroughly after he had done away with most of his impressive, Kingly regalia.

Bilba swallowed when he sent her a warm smile after he had exhaled slowly, tension slipping away, his strong body uncoiling.

Later that evening, the table was dragged to her bedside and most of the company joined in the evening meal. Thorin laughed and talked, as did the others.

The lack of tension, the absence of fear and apprehension of what the future would bring which ruled the Company at times during their Quest was absent. Of course, there would always be levels of concern about matters, especially for Thorin and those of the Company who were actively involved in running the Kingdom- which were, if Bilba thought on it, most of them. Yet to see them all this carefree, this _hopeful_, was exhilarating.

She laughed and talked too, her eyes constantly drawn to Thorin. She enjoyed his ready smiles, his underhanded teasing and his easy self-confidence. She did know he still held doubts about himself, about his capabilities after having been snared by the gold-sickness, but their combined faith in him did him good. It made him slowly realize that their faith was not just a silly notion of theirs, but a steadfast belief with firm roots and an unshakable foundation. They all _knew_ he was capable of leading their people, their kingdom.

It was a happy meal. Especially when Bifur and Bofur demonstrated their new toys, which were very ridiculous and quite childish renditions of Elves. If the Elves ever caught sight of the toys in the markets, Bilba was sure they could lead to another diplomatic incident.

The toys were, of course, a big hit. Apparently not only with the dwarflings, but with adult dwarves as well, demonstrated by the enthusiastic reactions of the Company.

After the meal, most left and Bilba obediently drank her medicinal tea and mixtures and endured a close inspection of one of her more slowly healing wounds.

Óin nodded at her, then at Thorin before leaving the room with nary a good night.

"I just love his bedside manner." Bilba quipped.

Thorin stared at her. "What's that?"

Bilba blinked. "Never mind."

Once more, Thorin divested himself of his shirt, but he did so in full view of her. Also, he didn't seem to be tired yet. He swung his arms a few times, then started to loosen his shoulders. Next he started twisting his upper body this way and that. Bilba watched closely because, of course, she wanted to know what he was up to.

When he took a firm hold on Orcist- not so graciously returned by Thranduil- it became clear what his intention was. He started pacing himself through very fast and powerful looking sword fighting moves, using not only his strong upper body, but also his muscular legs to give himself a satisfying workout.

Bilba was transfixed. So much power, speed and grace! The strength was obvious, but whoever said that dwarves were ungainly, stiff and lumbering were very wrong. Thorin moved very fast and very nimbly. She couldn't get enough of the spectacle.

When he was finally done, she was watching with heavy lidded eyes. He stretched his aching muscles before walking to the washing basin to poor water over himself.

"You're making a mess on the floor." Bilba accused, half-asleep.

He snorted. "I'll clean it up."

"Meh. You mean you throw a cloth over the mess and expect someone else to clean _that_ up."

He sighed exaggeratedly. He indeed grabbed a cloth, kneeled and mobbed the puddle up, before taking the cloth to the bathroom, where she expected a hamper or some sort was located.

"Happy now?" His voice came through the door.

"Almost. Why don't you take a proper bath now you're there. I don't want a sweaty, smelly dwarf in my bed." She was already snoozing a bit.

It was quiet for a while. Suddenly, drops of water fell on her face. Her eyes jumped open and she stared Thorin right in the face. He was looming over her, his hair dripping water.

"I guess I asked for it, didn't I?" She grumbled indignantly, to which he only laughed.

The next morning- fourth day in the Royal Quarters, King's Chambers, King's Bedroom... She was getting sick and tired of Dwarves uttering everything connected to the Mountain and especially the royal residence with reverential Capitals!- she woke up to Thorin shuffling around the room. He lazily scratched his chest while moving slowly to the washing basin. He splashed water in his face and dried himself. Then, he stretched and flexed languidly. Maybe working out some kinks in his muscles from yesterday's practice.

Bella was in awe at the sight. He was so comfortable, so at peace in his own skin as he thought himself unwatched. Bilba felt the smallest tingle of guilt for spying on him.

Hold on. Wait a minute.

There was a mirror attached to the elaborate wooden stand in which the silver basin was placed. She watched him smile knowingly at himself in the mirror. His eyes half-mast, he stretched again. She couldn't help but let out a startled but appreciative 'eep' at the impressive display of muscles.

His smile turned into one of satisfaction.

Bilba was confused. She frowned. Was he actually listening to her?

He was! She pretended to close her eyes, but peeked through her lashes. Thorin thought himself unobserved and was watching her in the mirror with a far too smug look on his face.

It struck Bilba. All the displays of strength, of power, of bare skin. It was all for her.

To have her _get used_ to him. To this. To things.

The sneak!

She didn't feel any anger or irritation at his subterfuge, though.

Instead, warmth filled her heart at knowing the machinations of her King were entirely used to help her and, in the end, help them as a couple. That he got some- all right, a lot- pleasure out of this as well, she didn't mind at all! Because wasn't she enjoying his scheming as well?

And so it continued for days. They reached a very comfortable and very pleasing accord with him prancing around and her openly admiring him.

It wasn't one-sided, either. Though Thorin still heeded her wish to have Óin wash her, he groomed her hair, he gave her kisses whenever he could slip them in and he treated her fast-closing wounds wherever she allowed him. He teased her, fed her all kinds of delicious tidbits he thought she might enjoy, he pulled her, carefully, in his arms when they went to sleep.

She was being courted, wooed, eased into a relationship that was so fulfilling that her past, somewhat silly Tweenish dreams of a grand romance paled in comparison.

However, she also discovered it was just not enough. Because her physical limitations due to her injuries stopped them from getting more intimate.

Yes, she found herself more and more desiring to be intimate with Thorin. Yes, she was very _used_ to him now. And she wanted to find out if all those things her Mother told her when Bilba reached that certain age were in fact just as exciting as they sounded. Her Mother had worn a mysterious smile as she told Bilba what happened in the marriage bed (or sometimes outside, but that was rather a hushed subject).

Now she finally had not only the opportunity, but most of all the heartfelt, earnest desire to do these things with the dwarf she loved.

She started to fervently hope Óin would soon tell her she was ready for some activity. She started to sincerely hate the bed too, no matter its almost indecent luxuriousness.

Finally, after almost three weeks of languishing in the King's Bed in the Royal- oh well, everyone got the point by now- she was declared fit for leaving the bed!

"You might now take that bath, Bilba." Óin declared gruffly. "But," he warned, "you have lost a lot of strength and energy. You will need to start slowly working on building up your stamina. Therefore, you will need someone to help you in the bath. Can't have you drowning now that you've come so far." 'Which would be a waste of all his efforts' was left unsaid, but nonetheless easily understood by both Bilba and Thorin.

Óin finally left the room after many admonishments and warnings not to overdo it.

Bilba looked at Thorin. Slowly, without looking away, she brought her legs over the bedside to rest on the floor. The cool stone felt nice to her feet.

However, her complete attention was captivated by Thorin. His eyes _burned_.

She dared to smile sweetly at him as she clumsily got her feet under her and stood up.

"I would like a bath." Her mouth was suddenly dry.

"Do you, now." Thorin said huskily.

"Will you... help me bathe?"

"_Yes_." He growled the single word out. Before she knew it he had crossed the small distance between them and swept her off her feet, literally.

Figuratively, he had already done so a long time ago, she realized.


	3. Part III

**Part III**

He put her down so gently on the first submerged step into the bath. She curled her toes in sheer pleasure at feeling the warm water lap at them.

Suddenly feeling shy, she twisted her hands into her shift. She wasn't wearing anything underneath and-

"Leave it on, for now." Thorin suggested, eerily capable of figuring out her thoughts. Though, the blush on her cheeks might have given her away.

Cautiously she stepped further down the hewn steps, the warm water feeling heavenly.

Across the room, Thorin carelessly deposited the tunic he was wearing on a chair, followed by the shirt he was wearing underneath.

Next were his boots, followed by his trousers. Bilba was unable to look way from the disrobing dwarf.

She blushed when Thorin had finally rid herself of his trousers. He was wearing smallclothes underneath, though. Was she relieved or disappointed?

Seeing him in nothing more than his loincloth brought home once again the fact that he was so much larger than she was. Well over a foot taller and so much wider than she. In fact, so much wider than most Men and Elves ever grow to; Dwarrows were indeed made to endure.

And all those muscles! Bilba fanned herself and when that didn't work out she clasped both hands around her face, hoping to stop her burning cheeks from turning even more crimson. However, that didn't stop her from looking.

He moved back and forth, collecting soap and other bathing necessities. Those apparently made their homes on the highest shelves, which made him stretch and flex, or in the smallest baskets on the floor, which made him crouch and flex some more.

She was back to fanning herself. Rippling muscles in his back and arms as he plucked something from the top of a tall, antique -everything that survived Smaug's occupation could count as an antique now, she reckoned- cabinet made her heart summersault funnily and this strange, aching, empty feeling settle down low in her tummy.

Bunching and leaping muscles in his thighs and calves as he crouched to rummage through an old chest made her aware that the strength of the Dwarves was not only centered in their upper bodies.

He turned back to her, busying his hands with some sort of package and she gawked at his biceps straining as he tried to unscrew the lid from a jar.

The patterns of the tattoos on his arms and those covering his chest and abdomen seemed to happily twist along with the tautening and relaxing of the heavy muscles and she was quite fascinated with the whole display, if she was honest- honest though quite mortified with her own daring.

"I trust that the water is not too hot?" His deep voice rumbling through the room shook her out of her daze and hastily she pried her eyes away from the spectacle in front of her. She carefully took the steps down into the pool, relishing in the feel of the warm water on her tender flesh. The cloth of her shift stuck to her body, but the weight was oddly comforting.

She nodded in answer to his question and after a moment she dared to peek at him again, only to be caught by his bright blue eyes. Looking at her from under his heavy brow, his eyes were _knowing_. He gave her a little smirk and used one arm to brush his heavy mane of hair over one well-developed shoulder. He did so ever so slowly, giving her ample time to watch those heavy muscles bulge, pull and flex some more.

She was sure she was about to die from overheating, her cheeks felt like they were on fire.

He cocked his head at her and that same confident smirk pulled his mouth up.

Again, he was doing this on purpose!

He was putting on a show, just for her.

And she was a very appreciative, _captivated_ audience.

He crouched at the edge of the hewn bathing pool, as there was no way she would call this work of opulence by such a dismissive term as a _bath_ as these arrogant dwarrow did.

He put down the jar next to the assortment of soaps and other bottles and jars.

"Now, let's wash that mob you call hair."

She didn't even have time to be indignant over the slight to her hair, unruly and uncooperative as it may be. Besides, the mighty King under the Mountain was the one who had repeatedly and fiercely vetoed her cutting it. That was telling enough.

However, the sight of Thorin lowering himself into the pool and wading through the water to reach her quickly brought her thinking to a halt. Because there was that irritating, far too attractive smirk again. All his attention was firmly fixed on her; and everyone knew how intense the King could be.

She swallowed as he came nearer and nearer. The few yards of water between them were so few, yet with him slowly _stalking_ her it felt oddly like quite a distance. She felt cherished yet also hunted.

Finally he was there and her heart launched into a fast rhythm.

"Here now." He sat down next to her on the hewed out ledge, the water now reaching the underside of those pectoral muscles. The hair on his chest and forearms pearled with crystal beads of water. Dazed, she looked up at him as he gestured for her to move.

"What...?" Was her very eloquent response. He rumbled a laugh and picked her up as if she weighted no more than his oaken shield and placed her carefully between his legs, her back to his chest as he seated himself on the stone ledge hewn at about halfway down the water level. .

She discovered that it was possible to blush even harder at the same time she realized that it felt so good, being surrounded by him.

He produced some sort of cup, dunked it into the water and used it to gingerly pour water over her head, wetting her hair.

The hot water served to give her the last push to total relaxation. She leaned back into his chest and let him work more cups of water over her head and hair. Eyes firmly closed, she could feel even better how her body molded to his. She could feel him easily through her soaked shift, and he was possibly even warmer than the hot water. She hummed contentedly as she burrowed further into him; it was so nice having her own personal furnace!

He hummed back at her and started working soap into her hair, his long, thick and calloused fingers firm yet gentle as they worked through the tangles and dug softly into the skin of her scalp.

Ah, how wonderful the water felt! What a relief to have her hair washed!

She luxuriated in his tender care of her. She felt herself drift as he concentrated on washing her hair. After having rinsed the soap from her hair he worked some sort of fragrant cream into her willful mob.

"Smells good." She murmured. She couldn't see his face, but she could feel his smile as his strong fingers continued working their magic on her hair and scalp. "I demand that you do this every day." Her relaxed state made her mouth run off. She groaned at his hearty laugh and wanted to pull away in mortification, but he only tightened his hold on her hair.

"Of course, love. It would be _my_ pleasure."

The sinful quality of his voice made her blush but it was his endearment that made her heart race.

After he had rinsed the cream out of her hair, she run her hand through her wet curls in amazement. So soft!

"Now... Shall I call Óin to wash the rest of you?" It was a teasing comment, but with a serious undertone.

Her heart swelled that he would still wait for her, if she needed him too.

She didn't. But oh, she felt nervous. Undressing herself in front of him, even if it was only her shift that she had to remove, would demand some courage.

Yet she had courage, didn't she? And most of all, she had this want and plain, obvious _need_ to get naked and... well... Her head must resemble one of her priced tomatoes!

He used on hand to brush the hair over one shoulder and rested his head on her other, placing an almost absent-minded kiss on her throat.

"Shall I?" He repeated his question. However, she got the feeling the question wasn't that obvious anymore.

"No. No, you don't need to get Óin. If _you_ will help me, please."

"It will be my honor." His voice was almost reverent. He carefully lifted her off his lap and placed her back on the stone ledge. He rose and gathered the bottles he had used. He brought them over to the pile he had gathered earlier.

He turned back towards her and cocked his head at her. He was watching her up and down, up and down, with a strangely pleased smile on his face. Sitting on the ledge as she was, the water came up to just beneath her chin. Yet it was calm and she didn't mind at all being so deeply submerged as she was.

With Thorin standing, the water lapped at his abdomen but beneath the spring-clear water the moisture had turned his loincloth transparent!

She blinked then looked down at herself.

Her shift was plastered to her body and it too had turned quite see-through ... She swallowed as she looked up and saw Thorin's heated eyes catching hers.

He knew and hadn't said a thing, the rascal. How... rude- yet no matter how hard she tried she couldn't bring up an ounce of outrage.

Instead, she felt hot and strangely jittery. With baited breath she waited for his next move. Yet he just stood there, looking his fill.

She felt impatient all of a sudden. She looked down at herself again. The shift has lost its function of propriety... and she was suddenly glad of it. It gave her an extra push to her new-found courage. She stood up from the ledge. She got a hold of the sopping cloth and in one move she pulled the garment over her head and sent it flying. She ignored the pull on her wounded arm and instead she focused on the surprised but very pleased look on her King's face. The cloth landed with a wet sound on the smooth stone floor of the bathing room, yet it went ignored by both.

Thorin settled his hands in his side, straightening his shoulders and back, broadening his chest. He looked down his long nose at the delicious bit of female standing in front of him, trying very hard to keep a hold of her bravery.

He smiled at her. "I guess we won't need this anymore either?" He didn't wait for an answer. He quickly untied his loincloth and threw it far away from him, uncaring where it went.

He smirked as her eyes bugged out. He was sure she had gotten more than an eyeful at times during the long months of travel; it had been unavoidable when in the company of thirteen dwarrow. However, she had always reacted quite prudishly, in their minds, when confronted with their 'dangly bits' as she named them.

She hadn't quite lost her properness. Her eyes darted away, only to slink back to catch another peek of him. It was amusing to see her look back and forth.

He had no problem at all keeping his avid gaze on her.

She had indeed lost a lot of weight, yet her breasts were still more than most dwarrow dams had outside nursing periods. Her hips were ample, her waist narrow, her legs long and slender. Her feet were endearing with the soft curls and tough soles.

He took a step towards her and was very grateful and pleased she didn't take a step back from him. Another and another until he stood in front of her.

She tilted her head back to be able to look him in the face. "Erm... washing now?" She managed to get out. Her high-pitched voice, full of sudden nerves, brought a tender smile to his face.

"After." He said simply. "After."

For a moment he waited, waited for her to say no, to rebuff him, as was her right if she didn't want this.

Yet she sighed and took the last step to bring their bodies into full contact with each other. She wrapped her arms around Thorin's waist and leaned into him.

"All right." She answered him. "After."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

A.N.: I decided to not post the lemon here on . I´ve heard/read too many stories about fics taken down because of certain trolls reporting stuff that didn't even exceed the 'M' rating and still got taken down. I won't give such people the ammunition. So, for those who did want to read the lemon, here's my solution. The uncensored version can be found on AO3 . org. Look for the same penname, if you are interested. Heed the 'Explicit' rating, please. For those who aren't familiar with AO3, it's a website that claims to support fan-based works, and is run by and supported by fans themselves. If they stick to their intentions, this site will hopefully continue to be a much more tolerant community than other fanfic sites have proven to be.


	4. Part IV

**Part IV**

Their future included a thorough wash of their tingling bodies. Thorin took extra care to soothe all her tender areas, whether caused by the battle or their ardor for each other. Óin was going to reprimand her something fierce. However, in her mind it was very much worth it.

After being dried she was carried to their bed. She could hardly keep her eyes open to see him settle in next to her. A heavy arm around her waist pulled her snugly into his hot body. She distantly felt Thorin drop a kiss on her mob of hair, which would curl and frizz something awful tomorrow, she was sure.

The next morning she sported indeed a frightening resemblance towards a bird's nest. However, Thorin came to her rescue; with a patience she could never hope to have he brushed and stroked it before braiding it with several small and thick braids, all adorned with beautiful beads, clasps and other Dwarven metal hair ornaments for which she had no names.

"I hope you are up for a day full of discussion, followed by negotiations, followed by preparations."

Bilba, half asleep due to the sinful attention to her hair and head, could only barely rouse herself to mutter an intelligent "Wuh?".

She heard the grin in his voice. "Yes, I have no doubts that by now everyone in the Mountain knows we have celebrated our-" The last word was in Khuzdul and unfamiliar to her- "So now it is time for our public declaration thereof and consequent feasting."

"What was that?" She asked him, referring to his slip up in Khuzdul.

His eyes crinkled in a smile. "It means _smelting_ in our language.

She blushed prettily. "Erm, yes, I guess we did some smelting last night, but what do you mean, precisely?"

"It is our word, our definition of when two dwarves celebrate and confirm their love for each other by entering into a lifelong bond."

"So, how did we do that? By sleeping with each other?"

"In our case we did; we shared more than our bodies, didn't we? I will have no other in this life or the next... I hoped you feel the same?"

"Of course. I love you." That earned her a passionate kiss and an even more profound hug; he seemed to never want to let her go. She was all right with that, as she didn't want to let him go either. She was turning in such a sappy hobbit!

"So _Smelting_ is your term for marriage?" She asked, just to be sure.

"Exactly, though to us Dwarrow _smelting_ is so much more than the 'institute' Men call marriage. _Smelting_ is unbreakable, irreversible. It transcends death, yet we hope for a long life on this Earth before we find each other in the Halls of our Maker."

"Yet I am a hobbit." She said in a small voice.

"I am certain the Valar will make an exception for you. Besides, I doubt they will want to deal with an enraged Dwarf stalking them for however long it may take until the world will be unmade."

She didn't say anything, just turned around in his arms to cling to him tightly. His familiar smell of pipe smoke and evergreen soap soothed the harsh memories of him in life-threatening situations that had bubbled up when he spoke of death.

"Trust me on this. I would not be satisfied with only a lifetime with you, my dearest Bilba. If they think to separate us, they will have an uprising in the Halls of Death on their hands. And as the inhabitants of the Halls are already _dead_ quelling such a rebellion will be a difficult task indeed." He sounded far too satisfied with himself. "Besides, you are a honorary dwarf already, you _belong_ with us; that also means after death."

"Why are we talking about death after such a lively night?" She asked him softly, rubbing her face in his beard. She played with one of the small braids in his long hair. Dwarven hair looked so coarse, but it was so silky soft to the touch.

"Indeed. Silly of us! Let's get ready to face this day. Balin, Dori and who knows else will soon be descending on us." She looked up at his face and saw a rather amusingly put-upon expression on his face. He raised his brows at her and she giggled.

"You make it sound like we're about to go into some sort of battle."

"Well, yes. A Dwarven wedding feast for the public means a great deal of preparation. In our case, the public _is_ the public. It will be the best excuse to throw the biggest feast imaginable. Most auspicious, I already have been told too many times, to have Erebor retaken and a royal marriage at about the same time. Such good fortune is a gift from Mahal."

"Isn't it?" She wondered softly.

"It certainly is." He gently tugged on one of her braids, smiling such a tender smile she felt even more warm and tingly inside. "And no one could be more grateful. But like I said, it will be an excuse for busybodies like Balin and Dori to throw a party without comparison. Which means lots of speeches, dancing, parading, eating, talking, joking, fighting -yes, a good brawl is as much a part of a dwarven feast as dancing or drinking is- while I would rather spend that time with you, here in our rooms."

"Do you already resent the duties your Kingship brings with it?"

"No." He grumbled good-naturedly. "I only hope these duties will not be too much for _you_. I don't want you to come to resent them."

"Well, I want to help _you_. And like you said, I am a honorary dwarf now, and I want to help rebuild my- _our_ home. I like putting my nose in someone else's business and getting things done just as much as cousin Lobelia... Yet where I like thinking up ways to solve problems, dear Lobelia only seems to want to cause more trouble! Truly, she knows how to drive a hobbit around the bent! Someone should tell her you catch more flies with honey than with the vitriol she's spewing!"

"I guess we won't send her an invitation to the wedding feast then?"

Bilba blinked. "If you want to keep your more precious heirlooms safe, _no_." She pulled on the braid she was holding. "Are you trying to distract me? Because weren't we supposed to hold a wedding feast before we... well, _smelted_ together?!"

"No." Thorin had the gall to look rather condescending. "We don't hold with such silly customs. The _smelting_ is first and foremost a matter between the two dwarrow. Their closest family might have something to say, but in the end, the choice is up to the dwarrow themselves. Only after they have consented to and celebrated their _smelting_, then they host a public feast where they can share their newfound happiness with their families, kin and friends."

"I guess there is something to say for this."

"Yes." Thorin gently swept a runaway curl behind her ear, making her shiver. "Maybe it is incorrect, but we dwarrow sometimes get the impression that marriage for other races, mainly Men as we have most interaction with them, is more of a bargain between two families than a union between two individuals."

"Well, amongst Hobbits there is a lot of matchmaking by well-meaning family members, though if a couple doesn't match, no one is pressured to do something he or she doesn't want to do. However, fact remains that the families' consent is quite important, for it will make a smooth courtship and marriage. Though there are enough stories of headstrong Hobbits defying their families' suggestions." Bilba tapped her lip with one finger, not noticing Thorin's half-lidded gaze. "My father was a good example of a Hobbit disregarding his family's wishes. They didn't think a Took would be a good partner for a Baggins. My parents did prove my father's family very wrong."

The soft smile on her face made Thorin trail his rough fingers over her expressive face. "I would love to hear more stories about your parents. However, they will have to wait until this evening, as I can almost hear certain dwarves pace back and forth outside our door."

"You can?!" Bilba asked, surprised. Thorin chuckled. "Not really; I just know my friends very well."

"I would also like to speak with Gandalf, before he suddenly ups and leaves us."

Thorin's face grew somber and serious. "Yes, the ring."

Bilba nodded, just as grim. "Exactly. I hope he knows what we should do with it. We don't want to keep it, but it doesn't feel right to me to just throw such a strange item away. Invisibility is not an everyday magic, I would imagine, though very handy. If it falls into the wrong hands, who knows what mischief can be achieved with it?"

Thorin softly butted his head against hers. "I agree. You put it away in the place I told you to?"

"Yes, and hid the key too. I know no one outside our Company knows, and none of them will spill my secret, but I just want to keep it buried far, far away."

"It needs to be the problem of someone who knows what he's dealing with. I will send a message to Gandalf to have supper with us."

zzzzzzzz

Gandalf was all smiles and dancing eyes as he graciously set himself down for dinner in the King's private dining room. He bestowed a laughing glance at a knackered, shell-shocked Hobbit, who was threatening to fall asleep in her soup.

"Though I am very honored by your invitation to your private table, Thorin, I can't help the feeling that there is something weighing on your mind..." He turned from the King back to Bilba. "On both your minds, actually."

Bilba had suddenly lost all sleepiness when forced to think about the item they had Gandalf over for. She would be happy to get rid of the thing; every time she had used the ring, there was first this sense of allure and desire. However, at the same time a sense of uneasiness crawled down her spine to settle in the pit of her stomach. After having worn it during most their stay in Thranduil's dungeons she had never felt so wretched, so cold and lonely. For a long while not even the sun and fresh air had managed to get rid of the creeping sensation of... decay; she had no other word for it.

She stood up to retrieve it. The ring glimmered innocently up at her, its glow soft and attractive. She snorted. Right. Like there wasn't gold enough already in the Mountain.

Deftly she picked it up between her thumb and index finger, as if she was carrying a spider to be evicted from her smial. She walked back into the dining room and decisively placed it down on the table in front of Gandalf, strangely relieved to give it to someone else.

Gandalf frowned. "What is this?" He asked carefully. Bilba and Thorin noticed he didn't try to pick it up.

"A magic ring I found underneath Goblin Town. The strange creature I had this game of riddles with? He had dropped it and I found it on the floor." Bilba answered simply.

"A magic ring, you say?"

"It turns me invisible when I wear it."

Gandalf hummed. "Invisible... that is indeed no small feat." He fell silent, and seemed oddly entranced by the small object in front of him.

"Take it out of my sight!" He suddenly thundered, almost sending Bilba's heart into palpitations.

Gandalf had jumped up from his chair, Thorin following after. The King grabbed his Hobbit by the arm and pulled her protectively behind him.

"What is the matter with you?!" Thorin snarled, one hand lowering to the ornamental dagger in his belt.

Gandalf seemed to deflate. He took a few steps back from the table. "I... I don't know." The wizard said slowly. "For a moment there..."

"Gandalf, please, could you take the ring and do whatever wizards do with magical object with the potential for great mischief?" Bilba asked earnestly. "I found it, but I don't think I should keep it."

"Maybe not, maybe not." The wizard muttered. "However, I don't think I should keep it either... I will have to look into this matter... a magical ring is not an everyday occurrence."

"That is the first smart thing you have said so far." Thorin said lowly. "You should know, as a Wizard."

"Indeed, indeed, yet..." The wizard took another few steps back. "Until I know what kind of magic ring we're dealing with, I deem it the safest option for you to look it up." He turned suddenly on Thorin and Bilba, his eyes alight and penetrating. "Who knows about this ring? _Who_?!" He demanded.

"Only the Company." Thorin answered tersely. "And we have all decided that it was wise to keep the thing a secret. We all _swore_ to Bilba to keep it a secret. In our experience magical rings have the tendency to attract trouble."

"Very wise, indeed. And I don't doubt the loyalty of any member of Thorin's Company. Keep it secret and keep it somewhere safe."

"But Gandalf!" Bilba protested. "Don't you understand, I don't want it here! Thorin and I, we don't like the feel of this thing."

Gandalf looked sharply from dwarf to hobbit. "Neither of you feels... attracted to the ring?"

Bilba answered honestly: "In the beginning I couldn't stop looking at it. It was quite pretty for such a simple ring. Yet the more I used it, the more I started to dislike it; it made me feel uncomfortable. Now, it feels like a burden."

When the wizard looked at Thorin, the dwarf stared straight back. "This ring to me doesn't differ from any other; on the contrary, I have seen much more beautiful ones. However, it makes Bilba uncomfortable and that's enough for me: this ring needs to go. I will not have a potentially dangerous artifact in the Mountain. Not when we're still trying to ascertain the worm didn't hoard anything perilous."

"I see. This will sound strange but I think this ring will be safest with you two. Lock it up, most of all: don't use it! I will be back as quickly as possible when I know more. Only with the proper knowledge we can make a sensible decision what to do with it."

"Gandalf!" The King under the Mountain was growling, clearly angry. "We are not the eight people to care for a magical object! We're not wizards, or mages or any other magical folk. If you don't want to take it, we'll give it to the Elves. Undoubtedly they will know what to do with it."

"No!" Gandalf seemed to suddenly suck all the light out of the room, suddenly towering (even more than he already did) over the surprised couple. "You will not take it to the Elves, nor will you take it anywhere else or give it to anyone else! You will keep it safe until I return!"

Bilba started to nod, yet Thorin was not so easily intimidated. Gandalf stomped his staff on the ground, a crack appearing at the point of impact. He bit out a few words in Khuzdul to an enraged Thorin, who answered back just as hotly. However, the King inclined his head just a fraction.

"We will keep it for you, until you return. You _will_ take it with you when you return."

"Undoubtedly." The wizard sais shortly. "Now, if you will excuse me. I better start preparing to leave tomorrow at dawn."

"But Gandalf, our wedding feast will be held soon, I want you to be there. Without you we would never have met!" Bilba pleaded, torn on the matter.

Gandalf's weary face lifted and he smiled at her. "I would not be so sure of that." The wizard stroked his beard and looked torn. He glanced over at Bilba. "I would think you wanted this matter to be solved as quickly as possible."

"That may be so, but I think I will survive the few weeks it will take to organize and hold our wedding feast. Please stay."

"All right, then. I guess I can start with the library here, anyway. It was held in high esteem back before Smaug."

"And it will be so again." Thorin arrogantly assured him. "Ori has reported that almost all books have survived Smaug in such a way that the knowledge they hold is salvageable."

"Good! Well, then, off to the library I go."

"But, dinner?" Bilba said, askance.

"I'm afraid I have lost my appetite. You enjoy your meal. Oh, and lock that away, please." The wizard gestured faintly to the inconspicuous-looking ring. Without further ado, he left the King's quarters.

Bilba quickly put the ring away, at least assured that no one outside her and Thorin knew about its location.

She returned to the table, dipped her spoon in the soup and brought it to her mouth. "Oh! Just the right temperature to eat! I was afraid it had gone cold!"

She didn't understand why Thorin suddenly started laughing deeply. It would have been a shame if their food had gotten cold!

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Gandalf hurried back to the Lonely Mountain, his heart heavy and his mind going over and over what he had learnt. He had had his suspicions, of course, but now that almost all of them had proven true, there is only a single, simple test to confirm...

Once he finally arrived, absent-mindedly noting the staggering amount of repairs and rebuilding done to both Dale and the Mountain itself, he was immediately shown to the private quarters of the King and Queen.

Evening had fallen and he found one Monarch sitting at the table.

She jumped up. "Gandalf!"

The wizard smiled tiredly. "No need to get up for me, my dear Bilba." He took a deep sniff of the tantalizing aromas coming from the spread of food on the large table. "Could I...?"

"Of course, sit!" There were several plates around the table, and he took a chair facing Bilba on the other end of the table.

The wizard looked around. "I assume Thorin will be here too? I would like to report what I've found out when both of you are present."

"Of course, of course. He should be here any moment."

Gandalf took a bit of roast, some grilled taters and glanced carrots.

"There's wine in the bottle to the right of you."

"Thank you dear. Might I say you look absolutely wonderful?" And he didn't exaggerate. The hobbit was radiant, more beautiful than he remembered. She didn't seem to have aged a day, while he had been away for years!

"Thank you." She smiled a deeply happy smile. "There is so much to feel wonderful about!"

"Well, tell me!" The wizard said, genuinely interested. He would love to hear happy tidings for a change.

"Where to start? Well, Thorin and I-" She was interrupted by thumping coming from one of the rooms connecting to the dining room. A door was thrown open and in raced a little boy. He sported dark curls and inquisitive bright blue eyes. The eyes alone were enough to tell his heritage, yet his nose was also quite reminiscent of his father's.

Hot on his little heels was an even tinier girl, also dark haired but with mischievous hazel eyes. Just like her mother, Gandalf noted.

"I am hungry!" The tiny girl exclaimed. She and the boy both stopped short when they saw they had an unexpected visitor.

"If you sit yourself down nice and quiet at the table I might decide to feed both you and your brother, Lís." Gandalf blinked as the King under the mountain stepped inside the room. He didn't seem to have aged a day either, though he was a dwarf and only just now working on the second half of his second century.

However, that was not the reason why Gandalf was regarding the dwarf with something akin to amazement. Nor was it the sense of peace that seemed to emanate from the stately King.

It were the two small bundles, so incongruous to the large, muscled arms they were nestled in, that had the wizard speechless.

Bilba had stood up again but was quickly commanded back into her chair again. "Let me come to you, Bilba. Take it easy, for once! Gandalf, greetings." Thorin quickly moved to his wife to put one of the bundles into her arms. "Lís and Frerin woke them up, but they don't seem hungry. Yet."

"They will be soon, though. Little gluttons." The warmth in her voice moved the wizard deeply. He was distracted by a tug on his robes. "Hello." The little girl, Lís, looked up at him. Gandalf smiled.

"Hello there."

"Are you really Gandalf, the wizard?" Her brother was next to her, looking no less curious.

"Indeed! And who might you be?"

However, the introduction was rudely disturbed when the door slammed open and a small army of dwarves tried to squeeze through the door.

"Gandalf!" The King's nephews were still their jovial selves. They were followed by a regal dwarrow dam, who gave him a deathly look. Instead of introducing herself, she moved to Thorin to pluck the baby he was still holding out of his arms before seating herself next to Bilba.

Thorin moved closer to the wizard to whisper in his ear: "My sister decided to blame you for all the dangers her sons went through due to the Quest."

"Ah." Gandalf said, a bit uncomfortable with the stink-eye he was getting from the majestic dam.

Thorin smirked at him. "Better you than me."

Gandalf watched as more dwarves were trooping in. Balin greeted him politely and took the chair next to him. Dori appeared to pour wine in his goblet. His two younger brothers were already claiming chairs close to Bilba, which got them into a loud argument with Bofur and Bifur. Bombur appeared followed by a trail of dwarves who were unknown to Gandalf. They all carried trays and pots and dishes and were directed by the rotund dwarf to place everything on the giant table. Good luck finding empty places to put everything, Gandalf thought. Good thing it was a solid _dwarven_ table to carry not only the weight of the food but also the combined weight of many heavy metal dishes and cookware. And leaning dwarves. Maybe even dwarves dancing on the table; Gandalf feared he would never forget the spectacle at Elrond's table- or was that _on_ Elrond's table.

Bombur's helpers quickly left after everything was settled to Bombur's exacting demands, but not before bowing deeply to their King and Queen, sneaking peeks at the children and babes, smiling while they did so.

Gloín came in and took the other seat at Gandalf's side. He was accompanied by another pretty dam and a miniature version of him. Gimli was his name, if Gandalf remembered correctly. The dwarrow dam nonchalantly pushed Nori from the seat next to Dís, and Gimli made his way over to the two Princes.

Last were Dwalin and Oín. The latter hurried to the Queen, exclaiming loudly that so many loud dwarves were not beneficent to the little ones' rest, or to that of the Queen, for that matter.

"Honestly!" Bilba snorted. "I feel wonderful! Just like I did the other three times! Hobbits are blessed that way!" Bilba smirked at Gloín's wife. "Maybe Áfrídr could use your assistance."

"No!" The dwarrow dam said quickly, loudly, but it was too late as not only Oín but also Gloín started to ask whether she was all right or tired, hungry, nauseous, energetic, tender or- The badgered dam shot Bilba a dirty look as she tried to get the two brothers to give her a rest!

So commenced a very loud, very long but most of all a very happy dinner. Thorin had his two older children seated between himself and Bilba, so both parents could keep an eye on them and help them out whenever a dinner roll, piece of meat, tater or vegetable was giving them trouble.

At some point Dís helped to drape a cloth over Bilba's shoulders so she could breastfeed her babies. She explained laughingly to Gandalf that this had more to do with Thorin's jealousy than her modesty; in the Shire no one even blinked an eye when faced with a nursing mother. Thorin gave his Queen a simmering smile but didn't say anything.

After the meal, the children were put to bed, despite loud protestations from the oldest two.

When Bilba and Thorin had returned to the table, the Company as a whole turned to the wizard.

"Now, out with it." Thorin commanded plainly. "Tell us what you have found, as you took your time finding it!"

Gandalf looked around the room. "Maybe we could move somewhere more... private?"

"These are our Company, Gandalf, and every soul in this room is trustworthy. And they all know of the ring already."

Gandalf was hesitant, no doubt about it. However, Thorin wouldn't budge on this matter, as far as he could see.

"Very well then." And he proceeded to explain his findings, and what he thought the ring was. Everyone turned solemn.

"This is... Are you certain, Gandalf?" Bilba asked, clearly frightened. Thorin, who was now sitting next to his wife, wrapped an arm around her shoulder.

"If you would get the ring, I know the way to make certain."

Icy silence reigned in the room when the ring was confirmed to be indeed the One Ring.

"That _thing_ has to leave here, as quickly as possible!" Thorin said lowly, fervently, and all the dwarves nodded in agreement.

"Who knows it is here, besides us? Who knows it's been found?!"Balin suddenly looked all of his years. "If the Enemy knows and plans to march on us, we will be able to hold out for a very long time... Yet that is not the answer. Who else will fight the Enemy? Will anyone come to our aid?"

"That's why it is best to get rid of the thing." Thorin slammed his fist on the table.

"Indeed." Gandalf agreed. "However, 'getting rid of this thing' will prove to be no easy matter. There is only one solution in my mind, and that is to destroy it. To destroy it, has to be cast into the fires of Mount Doom. However, I am not the only one with a say in these matters. Tell me, who is coming to the 20th anniversary of the Reclamation of Erebor and Dale?"

Thorin looked up sharply, as did the other dwarves. "Do _you_ have something to do with every Elvish nation accepting our invitation?!" Thorin was turning red, Bilba consolingly patting his shoulder in a reversal of their earlier roles.

"I suggest you ready the best guest chambers you have. I think you can expect not only the royals from Mirkwood, but also the Lord of Imladris, and the Lady of Lothlorien as your guest, as well as many important ambassadors from the Kingdoms of Men."

"Oh dear." Bilba sounded taken aback. "We thought to make this celebration a big one, but I guess we need to upscale!"

"Indeed." Gandalf leveled a solemn look at the Company. "I have your oath that nothing of this will leave this room?!"

"Of course." Thorin answered gravely. "You have our Oath."

"Good." Gandalf was visibly pleased. "And I know the Word of a Dwarf is more precious than gold and more durable than mithril."

"Exactly."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Gandalf sat quietly in the roomy nursery in the Royal quarters, watching Bilba sing her children to sleep.

"Tomorrow we leave." He said softly to Bilba. She didn't stop singing, but she nodded to show she heard him.

Finally, the twins were asleep and Gandalf followed Bilba into her sitting room.

"Will you take good care of my cousin? This is her first great adventure." Bilba couldn't seem to sit still, slowly moving through the room, touching this and straightening that.

"I will as much as I possible am able to." The wizard promised her.

"My adventure has given me much pain and grief, though it was very much worth it, in the end. I hope she will feel the same way, at whatever end it will have..." Bilba smiled hesitantly at Gandalf. "Though I maybe should not compare. The weight of the world didn't rest on my shoulders."

"Maybe not. Or maybe you just didn't know it was."

"We will do all we can to help you."

"I know." The wizard sighed deeply. "Goodbye, dear Bilba."

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Thorin and Bilba watched the small fellowship leave Erebor in the predawn light, their forms seeming mere shadows over the grounds.

"They're off on their own adventure." Bilba squeezed Thorin's hands, his arms wrapped around her expanding waist from behind.

"Jealous?" He only half joked.

"Not at all. Worried, though, for my cousin." He pressed a kiss to her cheek, clutching her tighter to his body.

"Besides..." She turned in his arms to press a kiss to his chest . "Our adventure is far from over, isn't it?" She took his hand to press it against the faint fluttering just barely discernible under her skin.

"I don't think our adventure will have an end." He promised her.

And that was that, as hobbits use to say.

zzzzzzzzzzzzz

So, I wanted to translate _smelting_ in Khuzdul, but despite several good online Khuzdul dictionaries, I couldn't find a translation for '(s)melting' and/or 'alloy', 'fuse', 'amalgamate' or some such. And looking into terms that came close, I wasn't sure about the grammar needed to combine several Khuzdul words, so I refrained from using actual Khuzdul. Actually, for such a mining and smithing obsessed race, I had expected there would be many different words just for 'mining' or 'ore' or 'smith' for example but if I don't think that's the case.

Anyway.

Thank you all for reading, leaving kudos and commenting on this little fic. I hope you all enjoyed! This last chapter was maybe a bit too fluffy, but I felt/feel that these two deserve a happy ending. I also wanted to deal with the ring, irritating little thing it is. And I made Thorin a bit younger too, as he should be almost starting on his third century if you stick to the timeline of the book. In the movie, they were more ambiguous about it. I just run with it.

I am working on two more fem!Bilbo/Thorin fics, and hope to post something soon. Thanks everyone!


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